Writer. Musician.

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The Moment

“It’s her” Sean thought as he walked in.
She was at the same conference that day, flanked by friends on both sides like a diamond set in a cheap gold ring. She shone out then as she did now, sitting alone at one of the small sets of cream colored chairs by the glass windows. He needed someone like Mike for this. Mike would know how to get her talking in his no bullshit way. Sean just paused for a second and went up to the bartender and ordered a domestic pint.

“That’s five bucks, pal,” the old guy said and he paid and looked around.

The place had a few people in it, mostly from the same conference, mostly mostly on their phones. She wasn’t. Sitting at the bar he managed to look and she was just looking out the window of the hotels bar over the pond towards the towering pines the formed the border onto Quebec St.

Her face glowed bright soft under the slight orange light with her large blue eyes gazing out like someone stargazing. He looked away quickly when he realized that if she looked in the reflection of the window, she’d probably see him looking at her like some stupid horndog.

He knew that Mike would have smacked him upside the head in a friendly way for what he was doing. He could almost vision Mike, The Bike Mike Attack like he called himself, and got others to call him too, right next to him on the next stool.

“Sean, buddy, honestly,” he said right up to his ear so Sean could almost feel the breath on his ear “this is a piece of cake! You’re both at the same conference. There’s your material…perfect opening line…”

“Weren’t you at the conference?” Sean breathed softly, drowned out by the sound of Stevie Ray Vaughan.

“Yeah, or how about that Keynote, huh?” Mike continued.

“Total meltdown,” Sean chuckled only to look up and see the bartender looking at him. He looked into his pint and sipped. The bartender went back to wiping down.

He looked back again. Her left hand was on the other side which gave him no chance of doing a ring check like he had found himself doing before. But if there was someone wouldn’t she be like everyone else? Wouldn’t she be glued to her phone? Maybe she was waiting for him. Maybe he’d come down from the room any moment. The scenario played out in Sean’s head like it was directed by Woody Allen himself. He would finally start talking and suddenly this wall of 6 foot, fresh from the weight room boyfriend would be towering over him like a bear in a business suit. He looked away as he suddenly broke out in a sweat. She’s so beautiful you moron. Of course she has a boyfriend or someone. Girls like that always have the guy which shoulders so broad they could carry a jet copter. And forget being over there, Sean continued in his head, he might be protective as he’d have to be with a gorgeous creature like that and if he walked in from the lobby to the bar and there’s you leering like a perverted puma about to pounce he would be straight over to assert his alpha dominant role. That role would have you flung to the other end of the bar like a balsa wood airplane. The bartender probably wouldn’t mind. He probably coaches touch football. Probably cheer and high-five the guy since he looks at you weird anyways. I should just give up and look at my phone. I could do a tweet or something about the conference and maybe put some notes down so people in here don’t think I’m some wild eyed lunatic.

“Hey,” came a soft voice next to him.

Sean turned around to come face to face with her. He looked at her stunned for a second.